Survivor
by Sinan
Summary: Mari Collingwood is dealing with her life. She hasn't run away from her problems or horrifying past. Infact, she lives with pieces of that past, and she does pretty well. Usually. She slips up sometimes. But hey, she's only human.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hi there, Sinan here. (: I'm a newbie, if you can't already tell, to writing fanfiction. I'm quite happy that I've finally gotten the courage and attention span to start a story. This would be the first chapter, and I don't know how many more will be coming. Nor do I have a set updating time. I just write and post, that's it. Also, this story isn't too developed just yet. The idea came to me earlier so I wrote, and here it is. Woop! I do hope you enjoy it. **_

Three years.

On this day.

This fucking day.

It's been three long years.

Three fucking years since I was raped. Since I bore witness to my best friend's death. Since I was shot at and kidnapped and hurt and left for fucking dead.

But I escaped. I survived. Because I am a survivor. Because I have willpower. Because I am not a fucking quitter. No sir, Mari Collingwood is not a baby who cries when she gets into tough situations and wishes she had someone to save her. She keeps calm and thinks through things. She is a strong woman, and has been ever since she was seventeen.

I can say this about myself and have absolute full confidence in my words. Because on this day three years ago, I survived.

A piercing sound disrupted my thoughts. Looking down, I saw the very reason I had started thinking about all of this in the first place. On the floor by my bare feet was a child, hardly past two years of age, happily lost in the world of markers and graphed paper.

"Benjamin, I need to be able to at least see the numbers on that calendar," I said as I reached for the black marker in his hand. "Here, use this one instead," I encouraged, replacing his dark hued marker with a much brighter, lighter yellow one. He examined the new color for a moment, as if puzzled by its color. However, in a matter of seconds, he was back to his business scribbling all over the calendar, content as could be. I tried to recall why I had left that calendar on the floor in the first place. Ah, that's right. I had noticed what month it was… what day it was. I very nearly had a panic attack as my mind flashed back to the woods, three years ago. I shook my head, unwilling to allow my brain to remind me of the horrors I endured all those months ago. I couldn't think about that now, I had to feed my son.

"Alrighty, let's get you some Cheerios, mister." I leaned down and lifted my son from the floor, surveying the white carpet for any signs of stray marker ink. Seeing none, I turned and carried on to the kitchen, which was a short distance from the living room we had just been in. God, this apartment was small.

I placed Ben in his little kid's seat that was positioned next to the counter, and headed to the pantry. He made some babbling noises, eager for food. It took me only a second to locate the cardboard box that attempted to hide itself amongst boxes of rice. "Ah-hah," I grabbed the cereal box and walked back over to Ben and proceeded to unfold the cardboard flaps at the top. Ben squealed with delight as I poured a few of the round O's out onto the little tray that was attached to his seat. "Here you go, sweetie." He grabbed at the cereal pieces and stuffed as many as his chubby fingers could lift at once into his mouth greedily.

"Can you say Cheerios?" I asked him in that annoying baby-talk voice that all mothers use when attempting conversation with their children. He looked at me curiously, and I could tell that I had his attention now, even though he was still munching away. "Cheer-E-Ohs…" I said slowly, taking care to sound out each part of the word.

"Jeerows..!" he said happily, smiling with happiness, bits of cereal sticking out of his tiny mouth.

"Yes, good job, Ben!" I praised, glad that he was able to pick up so fast on language. He met my gaze and grinned, a sense of accomplishment glinting in his eyes. And that's when I saw it.

I couldn't help it. I jumped backwards, having to grab at the counter for support. I couldn't tear my eyes away. I just stared for a few seconds before kneeling to the ground, where I proceeded to turn and lie on my side, balling up on the kitchen floor. I cradled myself and blinked salty water from my eyes. Shutting my eyes, I wanted so desperately to forget what I had just seen. If only there were a way to erase memories from the brain.

My child has his eyes. My child has his fucking eyes and not mine. Goddamn it. Why? Why couldn't he have mine instead? Why couldn't they just be…well, anything but his!

It's true, I hadn't just now noticed it, but up until this point, I'd been able to turn the thought away and shove it deep down into the recesses of my mind. I'd always hoped that his eyes would lighten up and turn out bright blue like mine. But they hadn't. They never would. And I knew it. And I hated it.

The way he had looked at me just now, I'd seen those exact eyes before. And I still had the utmost despising and disgust for those gleaming snakes' eyes. Now there was no way to push the thought away. It really struck me now how similar they were. Oh, God, no. Why did he have to have his eyes?

Benjamin Collingwood would forever be cursed with Krug's eyes.

Or perhaps it was I who was cursed. Cursed because I was the one who would have to look at those eyes every day. Look at them and see the same dark blue orbs that my assaulter had.

They say the eyes are the key to the soul. The man who raped me had pupils so black and thick, like tar and oil mixed, that there was no way in hell a soul could be lurking behind those damned eyeballs. A person like him…is hardly even human. Calling him human would be a compliment, in fact. Soulless bastard who forever fucked up my life. I still had a hard time keeping him from my mind, from hiding in every room of the house, in every shadow in the corner.

I wiped more tears from my eyes. "Paige…" I choked.

I thought I could handle this and that I would simply get over my little panic attack like I normally did. But it wasn't working. I needed more help than what I was able to give myself. I needed companionship.

Slowly, I got to my feet, bracing myself with the edge of the counter, grasping it like my life depended on it with shaking hands. I spotted my cellphone in the middle of the counter and lunged for it. Flipping it open, I punched numbers rapidly. Too rapidly. I had to try again, this time focusing on not putting too many numbers in. When the phone began to ring, I began to sob again.

After what seemed like minutes on the phone, waiting for the other end to pick up, I heard the heavenly voice.

"Hello?"

"Justin…" I said, working to keep the hysteria out of my tone. "I need you to come home. Right now…Please," the last word was just filled with pleading.

_**Alright! First chapter done with! (: Hopefully any reviewers out there will go easy on me, but all reviews are appreciated. Ehh… this was fun, and I hope to be publishing again soon! XD **_

_**\m/o_O\m/ Rock on. **_


	2. Chapter 2

**_Alright, chapter dos up now. (: Two in one day, I think yes. Kickin' off purty good. Point of view switch-eroo. Let's do this. Enjoy._**

I lead a simple life. It ain't that hard. I get out of bed at eight in the morning. I drink a cup of coffee, or soda, depending on which we currently have in stock, then go to work at a warehouse for a few hours, moving shit around. Then I come home and talk with my girlfriend and take care of her kid for a while so she can get a bit of rest.

The messed up part of my life is over for the most part.

My dad died three years ago, and my mother left me with him so far back that I can't even recall a single feature of her face. Not even the tiniest blur of her image remains in my mind. The only mental picture I can come up with is that she looked something like me. At least, that's what Francis told me.

He and Krug remember her well, and I thought Sadie had an idea of her, too. But I wasn't sure. My mother was somewhat of an off-limit topic.

I remember once when Francis brought her up in conversation.

I had been being yelled at for fucking up a mission, which was to rob a small gas station. Yes, we got away with the money, but I almost cost us our freedom, which, at the time, was really all that we had. That, and a price on our heads. Anyhow, we managed to escape unscathed and we returned to our shabby apartment building in once piece.

Francis had been short on patience the past few days, and having such a close call with the cops because of me really pushed him over the edge. He was furious.

"You fuckin' little brat," he snarled, shoving me against the wall roughly.

I kept my eyes down and didn't dare speak up or try to dodge his anger. Francis had quite a mean streak. When he got pissed, he took it out on me, and there was no way for me to escape. This I learned from experience. As short and thin as Francis was, he never dared try anything like this on Krug, because he knew he'd get his ass kicked. Nor did he ever try and pick on Sadie, for she had a nasty set of claws on her, and she wasn't afraid to use them. Also, she fought dirty, and Francis didn't like that. So, with those two crossed out, that left me first on the list. He was just a bully, and he knew he could growl at me all he wanted and that I would never try and fight back. Being the weakest of the pack really had its disadvantages.

"Goddamn! Do you _want _us to get caught? Huh? Do you? Fucker!" He slugged me hard on the arm and I winced. That would be a bruise alright. "Why do you fucking hesitate every time we tell you do something? Dumb shit!" He grabbed a fist full of my hair and forced me to meet his gaze. His green eyes glittered dangerously. A tense moment passed between us, where I was just stuck staring at him, and he said nothing, just studied me. "Tch, you got your mother's fucking eyes. And you're a damn pansy, just like she was."

That was all he'd had to say.

In an instant, Francis was no longer pinning me against the wall. I continued to cringe there, though, because now my father was taking things into his hands. The only thing worse than being picked on by a pissed off Francis was seeing my dad pissed off. When he was mad, everyone was affected, didn't matter who you were. If you annoyed him even the slightest when he was angry, you might end up with a knife halfway down your throat, lodged in your windpipe.

"Don't you fucking talk about her!" Krug shouted as he yanked his brother away from me. He threw him to the floor, and for a moment, I actually felt pity for my uncle. I saw the spiteful look in Francis' green eyes die out and become replaced with fear. He didn't stand a chance against my father, and he knew it. If there was anything I had in common with Francis and Sadie, it was that we all feared Krug.

"Krug, hey, I-I didn't mea-"Francis started, only to be cut off when my father kicked him hard in the ribs. He yelped loudly and turned onto his side, curling up instinctively and defensively.

"Do not _ever_ talk about _her_," my father roared, his rage nearly peaked as he glared down at the younger man curled up on the floor in pain. With that, Krug walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him, apparently too angry to remain in the same room as us any longer.

Sadie and I shared a glance for a split second. We shared thoughts as well, 'thank God that wasn't us.'

She turned and rushed to Francis, kneeling down beside him. "God, Francis, are you oaky?" Was Sadie actually showing concern for someone? How unusual.

Francis' breath was shallow and he whined like a hurt puppy for a week after the attack. I never saw the bruise on his ribs, but I didn't have to in order to know that it was very much there, and probably very much black and purple.

That was why I never asked about my mother, that was why I never learned much about her and still don't know much about her. And now that Krug, Francis, and Sadie are all gone… I'm left at a dead end with my mother. I will forever wonder what happened to her and whether or not I really look much like her.

Without those three around all the time, I was finally living without fear. Living a life of fearless freedom felt so good, too. I had a girlfriend, a job, and kid…sort of. He really wasn't mine, but…you know.

Speaking of said girlfriend, I wondered what it was she needed me home for. Probably just another panic attack. Those weren't uncommon for her, and who could blame her after what my father and his friends had put her through? To this day, I still carry so much guilt about the entire thing.

If only I hadn't…

No. I can't let myself think about that. I shook my head as I pulled up into the parking space near our apartment building, slamming the car door behind me and locking it.

I headed up the steps and stopped at the red door with chipped paint. I fumbled with the keys, having to search for a moment for the right key that fit into the lock. As I was jamming the key into the door knob, I heard something very distinct.

Ben's crying.

I jiggled the door knob and pushed the old door open. Stepping inside, I found Ben in his seat by the counter, crying harshly, bits of some kind of food strewn about his tray. "Ben, hey there, big boy. What's the matter?" I set my keys down on the counter top and lifted him from his chair. I rubbed the back of his head in attempt to console him. His hair was so soft and blonde, just like Mari's. Mari. "Ben, where's mommy?" I asked the child, tilting my head to look at him. I wiped a few tears from his cheek with one thumb. He didn't quite look sad. More like…afraid.

"Mari?" I called out, hoping that she would answer and walk into the kitchen, smiling and happy, or at least with some concern as to why her child was bawling his eyes out.

"Mari!" I called out again, silencing after to wait for a response. Finally, irritated that she wouldn't answer me, I set the child down on the kitchen tile and turned to him. "You stay right here, okay? I'll be back in a moment."

I walked towards mine and Mari's room. The door was shut, so I wondered if that's where she was residing. Perhaps she was in the bathroom, which would explain everything and give me great relief. But deep down, I don't think I ever really convinced myself that to be true, as much as I wanted it to be, it just wasn't. Slowly, I reached for the door knob. Pulling my hand back at the last second, I decided to knock softly first, to let her know I was about to enter.

"Mari?" I asked quietly. Hearing nothing, I went on to open the door, pushing it back away from myself. "Are you in here?" I switched the light on that was next to the door, and froze when I saw her.

She was half dressed, in only black bra and white underwear, crouching on the bed, staring at me with narrowed eyes. "Justin!" she hissed.

"Yes, it's me. Mari, what the hell are you doing? Ben was crying and you weren't paying attention to him?" I asked, demanding an explanation to her poor parenting. She'd gone off her nut. It was painfully obvious. I'd come home to her panic attacks before, to her being paralyzed in fear, but never to…this insanity.

"I want that abomination out of my house!" she screamed.

"What?" I asked with growing concern and stress. "You don't mean Ben…"

"I mean exactly him. Get that fucking thing out of here! That is _not_ my son!" she screeched like a harpy.

"What are you talking about? Of course he's your son!" I explained, trying to keep my voice fairly low.

"Get it out, get it out, get it out!" she cried, then leaped up from the bed in a flash of swift movement and darted to the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. She slammed the door and I could hear the click of the lock on the other side.

Okay. So what the fuck am I supposed to do with my crazy girlfriend?

Uh, hello, madhouse? Yeah, I've got a new patient for you.

**_Awwwww, yeahhhh. This chapter was longer than the first. XD Dang, it's hard to write long chapters. Well, it is not 2am, and I have to work in six hours. Guess I should get to bed, eh? Nawh. _**

**_-breaks into Krokus song- Stayed awake alll NNIIIIIIIIIIIGHHHTT! BOOM. Yea. Alright. Later, readers. :P Spare a review for a newb? _**

**_\m/O_O\m/ _**

**_ ROCK_**

**_ ON_**


	3. Chapter 3

So here's my situation; my girlfriend was on some sort of lunatic rage and had locked herself in the bathroom while her son is in the kitchen, crying his eyes out because he's alone and can sense the tension in the air and that something is seriously wrong with his mother.

What am I supposed to do? It would be so easy and painfully simple to just take a deep breath and walk out of the apartment, go down town to the local Whataburger, order a big fat greasy-ass hamburger and just get lost in all the grease and French fries I could eat.

But I wouldn't do that. Of course not. Mari needed me. Ben needed me. Alright. Time to man up a bit. I could feel traces of adrenaline coursing through my system now, and my temper was on a steady incline.

Sucking in a breath, I walked up to the bathroom door Mari had decided to use as her cave and knocked on the door three times. "Mari. Get yourself together," I ordered in a voice that I almost didn't recognize. Hardly ever did I speak while I was frustrated, and now that I did, I could hear a hint of roughness in my tone. I could only hope that I sounded forceful and demanding.

"Get the fuck away from me, Justin, or I swear to God-"Came the response. Her voice was worse than mine, laced with venom and quite threatening. Bullshit if I was going to let her talk to me that way.

"Shut up. You won't do anything to me, you and I both know that. You won't because you love me. Isn't that right?"

Silence.

"You know who else loves you?" I continued. I was leaned my weight against the door, which, for the moment, was as close to my girlfriend as I could be.

"Justin, you know I want to be alone right now. Go away!" she screeched in a high pitch.

"Ben loves you. And you ought to love him back. He's your son. You do care about your child, don't you?" I asked challengingly. _Because if you don't love him, then I'm giving him to a home. A child doesn't need to be raised by a mother who forgot how to love him._

As she spoke again, Mari's voice dropped dangerously low, I could just barely make out the words she spoke through the wooden door. "And do you know who else's blood that brat has in him?" She went silent, waiting my answer. I could only imagine her on the other side of the door, pressed against it with narrowed eyes and fingers splayed across the painted wood, as if the door were the only thing keeping her alive.

I shivered at the thought and squeezed my eyes shut. The image of my father flashed into my mind along with several other snapshot memories of that god-awful day.

Krug's rugged face and dark hair.

His soulless eyes, with pupils darker than any shade, as he scanned over myself, Paige, and Mari.

Sadie's odd facial structure and seductive manner as we rode in the stolen vehicle.

Francis' malicious grin as he pressed himself against a hyperventilating Paige.

Krug's pissed off features as I refused to touch Mari.

Krug yet again as he pumped himself in and out of a screaming, struggling Mari.

Enough. I shook my head. "Yes. I know…" I answered Mari finally, through gritted teeth. "But that doesn't matter. He's long gone. Fucking dead. You'll never see that sorry son of a bitch again, and you know that. Mari, I know that it must be hard taking care of him, but he's still a child. A baby, and he needs his mother. Listen, can't you hear him?" I asked, silencing myself afterward to listen for the sorrowful sound of Ben's wailing.

Mari remained quiet for a moment, and I could only wonder what was going through her mind. Hopefully, it was regret about leaving her child alone in the kitchen, crying and afraid. After a bit longer, the door finally clicked and opened. She took a hesitant step out of the bathroom, and focused her gaze on me. Her eyes narrowed. "Move," she hissed. I obeyed, stepping back and giving her some room. She kept her sharp eyes on me as she walked past; as if she were afraid I was going to stab her in the back.

I kept still, unsure of where Mari had gone, or if I was allowed to move yet. So I waited. When Ben's cries hushed, I walked out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen to make sure she hadn't murdered the child in her fit of rage and hysteria.

Luckily, I found that the child was in Mari's embrace. She was patting his back and cooing softly to him. Her eyes no longer held that bitter disgust in them, and had actually gone quite soft. I let out a sigh of relief and leaned against the kitchen doorframe, watching the mother and child. This was how she was supposed to act, holding her child and quieting his anguished cries. I couldn't help but smile just a bit at the sight.

The clock on the bedside table read 2:15AM in dark red numbers and letters, informing me that I had indeed fallen asleep sometime earlier. I just wondered what had awoken me. My question was answered when I felt movement on the bed. I cracked my eyes open again and caught the faint outline of Mari as she settled herself next to me. "Hey, Ma- Ah..!" I gasped as one of her hands found its way to my crotch, resulting in a jolt of surprised pleasure.

I could see Mari's white teeth as she grinned at me. Her hand moved around my area, and it suddenly became painfully obvious to me that I had fallen asleep in my jeans and collared shirt.

Mari moved again, this time placing herself above me, straddling me. She pushed her hands beneath my shirt and roamed my chest and abdomen.

"So just because I love you, you think I wouldn't ever actually do anything to you?" she asked, her voice hardly above a whisper.

"What?" I asked, having no clue as to what she was talking about. Foggy clouds of sleep still fogged my brain, and the only thing keeping me awake was her hands.

"Earlier. You said that you knew I wouldn't ever actually do anything to you because I loved you."

It occurred to me then, that she was talking about hours before, when she was still keeping herself locked up in the bathroom and threatening me.

"Oh yeah…that," I said groggily.

"Yeah. That. Well guess what, buddy, I got news for you." She lay herself on top of me, her chest against mine, and her mouth near my ear. "I think you were wrong," she whispered, then bit at my earlobe.

I turned my head to the side and mumbled some sort of unintelligible response. I could feel myself growing harder and it wouldn't take much to push me over the edge right now.

Mari leaned back and pulled me up so that I was in a sitting position, where she helped me get my shirt off. She had to move again so that she could get my jeans off. After that, Mari's hand once again found my crotch, and she moved it slowly, massaging.

I moaned softly lay back down, letting Mari do as she pleased for the moment.

It wasn't long before she had my boxers off, and was kissing and licking at my thighs. She trailed her finger down from my abdomen to my dick, but avoided touching it much, all the while keeping her tongue away, too.

"Mari," I moaned. "Please…"

She laughed. "Admit it. I _can_ do things to you."

"Alright, alright. You can, you can. I should never have doubted that," I said almost desperately. "I really should-" I gasped again as she took my in her mouth. I bucked my hips instinctively, and I heard her make a gagging sound. I felt bad for nearly choking her, but at the same time I wanted it. I wanted her to regret putting me in her mouth.

"Ahh, Mariiii…" I groaned, close to climaxing. Just before I did, I sat up and dug my fingers into her hair, forcing her to stay on me as I came in her mouth. "Swallow it," I growled as she shut her eyes. I was certain she was going to gag again and spit it out, but to my surprise, she didn't. She obeyed me and swallowed, then looked away from me and coughed a bit.

I sighed heavily and flopped back down on the bed, spent. "Jesus, Mari…that was…"

"Incredible? Unbelievable? Wonderful?" she said, laughing quietly.

"Yeah," I replied simply.

"See, I can do things to you whenever I want," she said with a sly smirk.

"M-hm," I mumbled, still catching my breath from the intense orgasm.

She lay down next to me, and I put my arms around her, smiling. Things could have taken a turn for the worst today, but instead, we fought it out a bit, she cared for Ben as she should have, and we had as close as we've ever gotten to make-up sex.

Mari and I still hadn't actually had sex. She was too uncomfortable with it. We had tried twice, but both times she nearly went into a panic attack. So, this was about the best we could do, give each other pleasure without any penetration.

For now, I was happy enough with it. However long she wanted to wait, I would happily wait with her.

_**Well that took an interesting turn, didn't it? ;) This is such a scatter-brained story. XD Oh, well. At least I'm trying, right? **_

_**\m/o_O\m/ **_


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